


The Road to Mobliz

by rynling



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Adults Being Friends, Epistolary Writing, Gen, Postapocalyptic Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:13:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 6,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3227093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rynling/pseuds/rynling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sabin keeps a daily log as he travels to Mobliz with Celes. How can life survive in such a ruined world?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One

I purchased this journal yesterday but was unable to write last night; I couldn't relax the muscles in my arms. Celes and I were treated to dinner by the townspeople, but I couldn't hold my silverware properly. My hands shook beyond my control. Perhaps I have grown weaker during the past year.

If I recall correctly, the royal family of Tzen was imprisoned by the Empire several years ago. The principality is now run by a small council of bourgeois whom I hesitate to call noble. In this world, peerage doesn't count for much. It seems it was the leader of this council who angered Kefka, bringing the so-called "light of judgment" down upon his home. Having wandered without encountering human habitation for several months, I am not entirely certain how liaisons with the Tower are conducted. I felt that it was undiplomatic to ask our hosts.

Although we have been treated graciously after rescuing the head councilman's son, Celes's presence in this former colony is accompanied by faint but unmistakable unease. There are rumors of a community of survivors in Moblitz, far to the east. Celes and I will set out tomorrow.


	2. Day Two

Celes and I left at noon. We walked for fourteen hours and made camp due east of Tzen.

Celes has been quiet. I enjoy the silence, but I worry that her thoughts weigh on her. Earlier she cheerfully snapped her fingers to spark the kindling into flames, but now she sits and stares at the fire without saying a word.


	3. Day Three

I awoke to the cold morning twilight to find Celes gone from our camp. Rising, I saw her silhouette some distance away. She seemed to be running through a set of sword forms. As I rekindled the embers of last night's fire, I recalled my first training retreat with Duncan some ten years past. Wracked with hunger and fatigue and pain, there was nothing to do but go through the forms, over and over and over again. How strange that this period of my life should inspire nostalgia.

Celes returned to camp as I finished boiling water for tea. She accepted a cup and watched me as I began frying slices of bread.

"How long have you been living in the wild, Sabin?" she asked me.

I laughed and told her I had been living like a wild animal ever since she was a little girl.

A smile lifted a corner of her mouth. "I'm not that young, you know."

As we ate, she told me that she must now be twenty years old.

"And I know exactly how old you are," she continued. "It was part of my training to memorize the names and faces and ages of the royalty of the great nations. Figaro was of special interest to my instructors. You might say that I've known you ever since you were a boy."

Although I am sure Celes intended these words as a response to my earlier jest, I felt a chill run down my spine when she described my brother's kingdom as a target of "special interest" to the Empire.

I try not to think about the past of this woman who now walks beside me.


	4. Day Four

Celes has lapsed into a profound silence, walking several dozen feet ahead of me and acknowledging my presence with mere gestures. 

We're making good progress. The sun sets a bit later each evening, but the days are still cold. I wouldn't be surprised to see snow. One of the great pleasures of the onset of spring in the Sabre Mountains was the nighttime chirping of insects, but the evenings on this vast and borderless southern continent are uncannily still. I have not yet seen any traces of animal life. If we don't reach another village soon, I fear our supplies will dwindle into nothing.


	5. Day Five

We were attacked by a group of strange creatures that appeared to be composed of radially arranged masses of leathery vines. Within these writhing clumps of biomatter were sharp carnivorous beaks and red eyes that glowed like coals. Despite their fearsome appearance, Celes and I were able to dispatch them without trouble. 

After the encounter, Celes seemed a bit more friendly, as if drawing her sword had lightened her mood. 

Later she asked if I had seen the Tower. I was relieved by her question. I had been worried the topic might be taboo for her, as it is for many of the people I have encountered over the past year. 

The Tower rises from a shallow but massive basin sunk into a broad plain, as if the very earth itself were fleeing its presence. I have seen it jutting upwards like a rusty nail in the distance, but I have not approached it. It is impossible to ascertain how tall it is, or what its dimensions may be. The structure defies rational comprehension. 

"How are we going to get into that thing?" Celes asked me.

I told her I supposed we would have to enter through the front door. I spoke only partially in jest; and, as the words left my mouth, an image of myself using the claws attached to my metal knuckles to climb hand over hand up a grainy limestone wall rose unbidden into my mind. The prospect is exhausting. I can't help but think that our current journey, a quest to find our lost companions, is nothing more than a delaying of the inevitable.


	6. Day Six

Late in the afternoon we came to the shore of a great lake. Traveling south, we met with a three-person band of aurochs herders. Their flock, which I estimate to be roughly one hundred and fifty head of cattle, bathed in the icy water and lounged on the muddy shores. The animals are patrolled by three large dogs and, to my surprise, a pygmy wyvern that has formed a close bond with one of the herders. Celes told me that such a partnership was not uncommon in this region in the days before the war. 

The herders themselves are as close as family and may in fact be one. They welcomed us to camp with them, and we accepted their offer. Over thick, strange-scented tea, they told us that the size of their herd has dramatically decreased since the cataclysm. Aside from the animals lost in the earthquakes, many have died of stress. The herders are concerned that the black snow of the past few months will affect the spring grazing, but there is nothing they can do save to wait and see. 

What's more, the oldest of the herders explained, they hesitate to bring their herd anywhere near Tzen, as the cattle kept close to the city are rumored to have been laid low by disease. While Celes discussed the resulting shifts in the barter-based system employed by the herders with the woman, I watched the youngest girl cavort with her wyvern, which flew just above her like a kite.


	7. Day Seven

We came upon the remnants of a paved road and followed it south until it vanished into a river. We walked along the riverbank until we were able to locate a shallow crossing. The turgid current was infested with skeletal fish. Several attempted to bite us before Celes electrified the water, sending rancid masses of them to the water's surface. 

Everything is gray and colorless, from the water to the mud to the straggling river reeds. The only color to grace the landscape is the occasional glint of sunlight on Celes's hair.


	8. Day Eight

Heading east past the river, we encountered nothing – just dirt and more dirt. I wouldn't have been surprised to see more of the tumbleweed organisms we fought earlier, but hardly a rock has punctuated the flatness, which stretches endlessly towards the horizon. Were it not for the positioning of the two moons faintly visible in the daytime sky, we might have lost our direction altogether. The monotony is uncanny.

As the sun touched the rim of the sky, we could make out a single tree in the distance. I thought it a mirage, but Celes insisted we investigate. Where there is vegetation, there may be water, and water is precious to us.

Upon arriving at the tree, we could see that it was not a phantom of our minds. Nothing could have been more real. A desiccated corpse dangled by a noose from a low-hanging branch. The body was naked, and there were no clues concerning where it had come from or who had strung it up. Celes touched one of the corpse's legs, and its foot fell to the ground with a harsh thud. She laughed, and I realized how close she has always been to death. It must be like a friend to her.

The tree, like the body, was defoliated. There was no water.


	9. Day Nine

Shortly after setting out from camp this morning, we came upon the dry bed of a stream wending eastward. The path is soft and sandy, and the going has been easy.

Celes can draw ice from the air, but it is made of magic and cannot be melted to drink. I am thankful that we have both been trained to endure hardship, but our thirst is nonetheless unpleasant.

To distract herself, Celes has been attempting to recall doggerel songs and riddles from her girlhood. I took the liberty of writing one down:

 _Crepuscular wakings and risings have I,_  
_But cold water shrinks me;_  
 _Into deep furrows and burrows plunge I,_  
 _What dost thou bethinks me?_

My mind jumped to the obvious conclusion, and Celes did not hesitate to laugh at me. "It's a fox," she said. "Obviously!"

Our water is running low. We must find more tomorrow, even if we have to head in another direction.


	10. Day Ten

In the middle of the day, when the sun had reached its apex, Celes came across a cool shadow cast by the jutting mouth of a cave that formed a portal into the steep wall of the riverbed. She motioned me over, and I could feel the moisture in the air emanating from within. I volunteered to climb inside, but Celes insisted that she be the one to enter, claiming it was likely my size would prove a hindrance. I had to admit that she was right, although I envied her immersion into the humidity. The smell of water was maddening. 

Not five minutes after Celes disappeared into the darkness, a swarm of albino insects, each as large as my forearm, spilled from the cave. They progressed soundlessly into the sun and moved as one body along the riverbed. It was a sight I wish I had not seen, and I was concerned for Celes. She herself emerged unscathed several minutes later, both of her water skins bulging. She invited me into the cave, and I followed her until the passage ended in a natural spring bubbling with clear and delicious water. 

The cave was illuminated by the large insects, which glowed faintly with a rainbow sheen. Although grotesque by the naked light of day, they complemented their natural environment well.


	11. Day Eleven

This afternoon we passed a herd of three dozen or so pyramid-shaped creatures. Although we viewed them from a distance, they seemed to be roughly as tall as my waist. Blue bursts of electricity occasionally flashed above individual pyramids, which moved across the surface of the earth on dark spiny legs. We paused to admire them, and Celes told me that she's never seen anything like these animals before. We tried to compare them to the native fauna of the region but soon reached the conclusion that we have no idea where we are. Even to Celes, who was born here, this land has become strange. We were told in Tzen that we could reach Mobliz by walking along an exposed measure of the Serpent Trench, but the notion that this baked and sterile soil was once below water is absurd. 

I mentioned to Celes that I miss seeing the world from the deck of an airship, and she laughed and made a snide comment about a certain airship pilot. I am worried that he did not survive the wreckage of his craft, but Celes assured me that he is not the type to die so easily.


	12. Day Twelve

Late in the afternoon, as the sun bled red into the sky like an open wound, we met a chocobo trader heading south from Nikeah. She had been traveling for a week, and she was more warmly dressed than we were. She led three carrier chocobos behind her mount, and from one of their packs she drew a panoply of scarves. She told us that they had been woven from the wool of Narshe mammoths. Perhaps they would be the last of their kind, she speculated, as Narshe had been deserted after an onslaught of fierce blizzards, and savage monsters now poured forth from the mines.

Celes selected a lavender scarf, and I a blue. We anticipate the onset of a warmer season, but it is better to be prepared as we begin the journey north. We replenished our supply of dried meat and bought a small sack of the tart aubergine root vegetables produced in the South Figaro region. I have heard that the port city still stands, and I hope to make my way there after we investigate what remains of Mobliz. I have grown used to Celes as a companion, and I pray she will accompany me.

The trader told us that we are halfway along our road, and that we may be able to procure chocobos in an outpost a day to the northeast. Celes wears the wilderness as easily as her own clothes, but I could tell she was happy to receive the news that we are not far from a town, if only so that she can bear witness to the sight that people yet live in this part of the world. From the way she avoids any mention of her years in the military, I fear she places upon herself no small measure of blame.


	13. Day Thirteen

We reached the settlement the chocobo trader mentioned, but it was not what we expected. 

While approaching on the only road through this territory, we smelled it before we saw it, an earthy mixture of ashes and rot. The village itself was a cluster of several dozen clapboard houses completely open to the wild without even the usual defensive palisades. No one greeted us as we crossed within the huddled mass of houses, although we could feel eyes watching us from between the cracks in boarded windows. There was no ornamentation of any kind adorning these buildings, which were as colorless as the dirt on which they stood. 

In the center of town was a stone well, but no rope or bucket hung from the structure, and there were no weeds or grass at its base. It stank of mildew. 

Celes called out tentatively, and she was answered by a low moan that echoed across the stark walls of the clustered houses. We followed the sound to its source, but, upon emerging from a twisted passage of narrow alleyways, our attention was immediately arrested by the sight of a plum tree brilliantly in bloom at the settlement's border. Its profusion of blossoms was out of keeping with the naked earth that surrounded it. 

Celes noticed the figure crouching at the roots of the tree before I did, touching my arm to alert me. The moan we had followed was emanating from a young man huddled into himself and clutching the stump of his right arm, which oozed blood that fell in thick drops. The moisture was absorbed by the ground as soon as it struck. 

Stepping forward to aid the man, Celes was repelled by a shriek and a flash of fire in the air that could only have been magic. She warded off the spell with a simple flick of her hand. When she took another step forward, the man growled at her like a cornered animal. As she paused, a rock flew from one of the shuttered dwellings and struck her back. She turned to look at me, and a silent agreement passed between us. Skirting the edge of the village, we found the road again and followed it away from the houses.


	14. Day Fourteen

Yesterday we walked through the night to get as far away from the village as possible. We rose early in the morning and continued along the road heading north. As the sun rose before us in the east, the greater moon hovered on the horizon to the west. The satellite moon had already set. 

In the afternoon Celes noticed a line of crocuses running along the road. Even when the paving stones petered out into the loamy soil, the flowers stretched on, so we followed them dutifully. 

Just as the sun set, we came upon a grouping of three houses. They were fashioned in the style of those of the previous settlement, but they were somehow more homely and ringed with vegetable patches and laundry posts. 

When we were about a click away, five people emerged and stood together waiting for us. Drawing closer, we could see that they were three older women, a younger woman, and a child who seemed to be her son. 

The boy ran out to meet us. He pestered us with questions while we walked – Where had we come from? How long had we been traveling? – and the women greeted us with warm spiced tea as we climbed the steps of the broad covered porch on which they had congregated. We sat outside with them, delivering news from the southern cities. The boy tried to imitate my accent, playing with it as if it were a new toy and thoroughly enjoying himself. 

The sun set, and we were invited inside, where we were served a salad of winter greens and dried fruit. Celes and I ate ravenously. We gave our hosts the vegetables we had acquired from the chocobo trader, which they baked with herbs and buttery bread stuffing. As we ate, I felt warmth permeate my body, and the sensation left me lightheaded. Celes accepted a glass of pink-tinged strawberry wine, and her cheeks grew flushed as she smiled and chatted with the women. 

After we had eaten and arranged ourselves in front of the fire, Celes broached the topic of what we had witnessed yesterday. A looked passed between the women, and the youngest nodded and spoke to us as her son dozed on a hand-spun rug. She explained that people with magic power were sometimes born to villagers in the area, and that these people were forced to hide their abilities lest they risk ostracization. One of the older women then described how the young people who had been drafted into the imperial army were slowly returning home, where they and their strange new abilities were rarely welcome. 

As the women delivered this narrative, Celes's eyes deadened, and her face became a stone mask. It hurt my heart to see it. Allowing a brief silence to pass without comment, I asked our hosts how they had come to know so much of the world, and they proceeded to entertain us with stories of the travelers who had passed their way. Judging from the rough nature of some of these encounters, I would not be surprised to learn that they possessed a modicum of magical ability themselves.


	15. Day Fifteen

We left early in the morning equipped with a map directing us to a chocobo forest to the north. The path was easy to follow, as it had been sporadically marked with porous white limestone that gleamed in the sunlight. 

We reached the forest shortly after noon and found that the chocobos were quite tame. Although there was no need to lure them to us, we unwrapped the pickled greens the women had given us and shared them with the birds that drew close. 

One chocobo seemed especially partial to Celes. When she attempted to mount it, she lost her balance, and I had to help her. She scoffed at her own clumsiness and admitted that she had precious little experience riding a chocobo, much less without a saddle. After finding a bird of my own, I recounted my misadventures with Magitek Armor, which were only outmatched by Cyan's superlative maneuvers. Celes laughed so hard that she was on the verge of falling from her chocobo before the bird squawked at her in annoyance. 

We rode northeast until we reached the sea, where a fantastic sight awaited us. Beyond the rocky shoals hugging the shoreline was an enormous expanse of exposed coral that rose high above the waves, looking for all the world like a bridge fashioned of pale concrete. The setting sun at our backs stained the coral with many hues of red while dying the water a rich royal indigo. 

Neither of us had any desire to navigate this strange apparition in the dark, so we made camp on the beach and watched the sun set over the ocean.


	16. Day Sixteen

We rose early in the morning and used the clear light of dawn to help our chocobos climb onto the coral shelf. The surface is pitted and uneven, and I am thankful that the feet treading it are not our own.

An hour or two after setting out, we came upon a vast canyon carved into the coral. Although the outcropping is only three dozen feet above the waves, the chasm is so deep that it swallows the light of day. Celes dismounted and dislodged a chunk of coral, enchanting it so that it emitted an almost blindingly brilliant light. She handed it to me, and I chucked it as far as I could past the edge. It fell soundlessly without losing its radiance, only becoming smaller as it plummeted away from us. With so much water surrounding the coral bridge, the absence of a splash was unnerving.

Although the chocobos will not approach the rim of the crevasse, they don't seem to mind trotting alongside it. We proceeded along its western side, as the sea in that direction is calmer. A massive burst of wind intermittently erupts from the darkness, bringing with it a strangely dry odor similar to the oily discharge of coal as it is fed into an engine. Celes agrees, saying that the smell reminds her of Vector.

This must be a portion of the fabled Serpent Trench, whose currents once sped me and Cyan and Gau onward to Nikeah. I shudder to think that such an abyss was underneath our flimsy and decrepit vessel.

The sun has set and the moons have risen, and still we have not reached the shore on the far side of this strange bridge. The onset of darkness has forced us to make camp on top of the coral, which is as eerie as it is uncomfortable. It troubles me to sleep so close to the crevasse, over which I have seen no birds fly. When I said as much to Celes, she found delight in my discomfort and teased me with stories of sea monsters so vast that only the salty brine can support their bulk.

Over our fire of dried seaweed, which burns not orange but blue, I countered her tales with the legends of Figaro, which speak of gigantic worms living within the sands. Some of these creatures are so large, I told her, that they are perceived as many organisms when what has been seen are only the tentacle tongues emerging from the maw of a single worm. Celes, who was sipping from a small bottle of strawberry wine, found the concept highly amusing.

"Perhaps they're still there, hiding in your brother's basement," she suggested.

"Perhaps they're waiting for the kiss of a pure maiden to awaken them," I agreed.

Her laughter echoed down the hollow void at our backs, chilling me to the core. The chocobos do not sleep but are huddled together, their eyes vigilant. Celes is snoring like an old woman, but I fear I will not be able to rest tonight. I sit with the chocobos, watching the chasm over the embers of the dying fire.


	17. Day Seventeen

We came to the end of the coral shelf today; but, before we could descend to the shore, we were forced to witness something neither of us could have expected.

The coral had gradually risen in elevation until it was more than a hundred feet above the surface of the ocean. We observed an old man waiting for us at its highest point. Since he stood at the top of a slope, we could see him long before we reached him. He stood motionlessly while gazing down at our approach. 

When we drew close enough to call out to him, we could see that there was something terribly wrong. His clothes were in tatters, his long hair was matted, and his exposed skin was covered in sores. The smell coming off him spooked the chocobos, and we were forced to dismount and go to him on foot. 

He was far more ghastly than we had perceived from afar. Using some unimaginable method, he had torn away his eyes and eyelids. His diseased skin hung from his skeletal frame like a cape. Worst of all, he was not an old man but barely an adult. 

"The Tower is always watching," he wheezed in a voice like dry leaves before flinging himself into the sea. I can only hope he did not survive the fall. 

It was almost sundown when the coral finished its slow descent to the shore. Our two chocobos carried us down and then left us, swimming like ducks back over the waves. Celes and I cast fishing lines from the beach. We were successful, but we roasted our catch in silence. 

After we had eaten, Celes suddenly asked me, "Do you think Locke made it?"

"Of course he did," I answered without hesitation.

Celes left the question she must have wanted to ask unvoiced, mercifully so. In truth, I don't know why he hasn't tried to find her. Albrook and Tzen have taverns and public boards used by wanderers and survivors, and carrier pigeons still fly across the skies. Why has he not left a message for her, as we left word for our former companions in Tzen? I cannot delude myself into arriving at a different conclusion than the one Celes undoubtedly fears, but I do not want to lend credence to my thoughts by putting them into words, and I thank Celes in my heart for not asking me to do so. 

It is at times like this that I wish I had my brother's courage.


	18. Day Eighteen

Having crossed the coastal flats, Celes and I came to a mass of trees so dense that it seemed like a wall stretching endlessly in either direction. Instead of circling to the east or west, we decided to enter it while proceeding directly north. 

The forest breathes moisture. After walking all morning and afternoon, Celes and I found ourselves drenched in perspiration. When we arrived in a small clearing around a shallow spring-fed pond, we both agreed to end the day's journey. 

Celes wasn't keen to stand again after she lowered herself and her pack to the ground, so I told her to rest as I scouted the area. When I approached the clearing again, I found Celes preparing to bathe in the spring. 

Her back was to me when she pulled off her undershirt. Still facing the pond, she gathered her hair into a loose bun. I could see her muscles under her pale skin, which glowed in a single slant of golden sunlight that had broken from between the trees.

What leapt into my mind was a fable I had heard as a child in which the goddess of the greater moon caught a mortal man observing her in much the same situation. Without mercy, the goddess transformed him into a massive bear, which she then set her handmaidens to hunt. Reasoning that it was better to prolong my foray into the woods than to risk the wrath of a bathing woman, I set out once more to check the traps I had set. 

Later, over a dinner of roasted hare, I recounted his episode to Celes, who laughed and told me that I could not expect to receive the same courtesy from her. After a slew of risqué jokes about the military, she divided the last of the strawberry wine into two small cups and insisted that I drink my share. It has been years since alcohol has passed my lips, but I welcomed its mellow bitterness. 

While gazing into the fire, Celes told me that her name is the name of the goddess of the moon in the archaic dialect of the southern continent. When I offered the suggestion that her mother wanted her to grow up to be swift and radiant, she mused that she had never known her mother and wasn't sure who had given her this name. She then began asking questions about my own childhood, which grew increasingly facetious as the evening wore on. 

Although the nighttime air is chilly, it is not as cold as it has been, and the moons are bright in the sky. I am heartened to think that the winter is finally lifting. The broad glossy leaves and exposed roots of the trees in this forest resemble those of the green belt extending along the northern border of the Veldt. We cannot be far from Mobliz.


	19. Day Nineteen

We emerged from the forest onto a vast windswept grassland. The sky was overcast, and the air was heavy with humidity. We are fortunate that, as we are only on the cusp of spring, the grasses do not reach above our knees. Judging from the position of the stars in the sky, we are still far to the south of where Mobliz should be, but this is undoubtedly the topography of the veldt surrounding the city. The world has changed in ways I am only yet beginning to fathom. 

We ate the rest of the smoked fish for lunch and were attacked shortly thereafter by a horde of strange lizards with pink scales, tufted green hair, and rows of sharklike teeth. There were dozens of them, far too many to fight individually. 

Celes prepared to unleash a wide-ranging hail of ice, but I proposed an experiment. As an acolyte, I had been trained to focus energy in my fists using a technique that I later found to approximate the measured casting of magic. If magic is something innate to humans that can be drawn out through training, it stands to reason that it springs from the same source as the blitz arts. I had been waiting for an opportunity to test this theory, so I asked Celes to target not the lizards but my claws. 

She understood immediately. As the words of the incantation issued from her mouth, I felt power surge through my hands, and my mind was suddenly filled with a crystal-clear image of the desert at night, the chill wind brushing over the moonlit sand. Launching into the slew of creatures was as easy as dancing, and they fell before me like flowers tossed onto a stage. The battle was over in minutes. I soon stood in the middle of a pile of frostbitten bodies. Celes clapped and cheered. 

With the lizards dispatched, a pair of scavengers arrived, two monstrosities that resembled land spiders but had far too many bristled legs and milky eyes. I indicated to Celes that I did not wish to deal with either of them, and so she incased them both in ice with a single snap of her fingers. 

The library in Figaro Castle is filled with a number of ancient, crumbling volumes elucidating the mysteries of magic. I know this because I once read many of them myself. Although it was simple serendipity that I encountered Duncan as a young man, I have long wondered what secrets may lie in the legacy of the royal bloodline. My brother has chosen the ever-rational path of technology, but I suspect that the bedrock upon which the modern castle is built contains strata upon strata of magic-infused history. 

The clouds finally broke in the afternoon, releasing a torrential downpour. The rain was warm and refreshing. Lightning flashed across the sky following resonant peals of thunder, but Celes was undaunted. She stashed her cape and mantle in her pack, which she thrust into my arms before turning a series of cartwheels through the grass, splashing shining sprays of water around her.


	20. Day Twenty

We encountered a pair of chocobo-riding adventurers an hour or two after noon. They hailed us and came to a halt, seemingly eager to talk.

They told us that they had just come from Mobliz but had not encountered a soul.

"In fact, most of the city is underwater," the younger of the two remarked.

I expressed concern, as the Mobliz I remember was a sprawling regional capital circled by suburbs, not to mention many miles removed from the shore.

The older of the pair considered my objections and then told me, choosing his words carefully, that Mobliz is now considerably closer to the sea, and that it bears violent traces of having suffered the displeasure of the Tower. When Celes asked him to clarify, he told us that we would see for ourselves soon enough, as we would reach the outskirts of the city by nightfall.

"It may be," he continued, addressing Celes, "that anyone who remains there might feel that a lady and a monk are more approachable than two armed wanderers, although it may also be that you do not wish to summon the presence we felt."

"That city is haunted," his companion added.

The two travelers informed us that, if we wished to turn around and set out for Nikeah, roughly a fortnight's journey to the east by chocobo, there is a stable full of the birds within the remains of the city. The structure has been abandoned, but the chocobos still nest there, apparently quite content.

We took our leave of the two men and continued north, soon finding the trunk road that leads directly into the heart of Mobliz. The paving stones are in a state of disrepair, having not been maintained since the winter frost thawed, and fresh shoots of vegetation have taken hold in the cracks and potholes.

We were startled to find the first clear piece of evidence of the disaster that has befallen the city, a stark gorge filled with brackish water cutting rudely across the road. We could not see its beginning or end from our position, so we chose to swim across it. On the other side, we discovered more such cavities in the earth. As we pressed forward, we began to observe the waterlogged ruins of houses emerging from swampy pools. Aside from water birds and a few feral cats, whatever happened here has spared no survivors.

And yet we can feel the "presence" to which the traveler alluded. Celes suggested that we approach by daylight, and so we have struck camp early. Watching the sun set over the ruins of a once-great city stirs within me an emotion that I can't describe. Strangely enough, it is not entirely sad.

Celes has heard rumors of a young woman with green hair watching over Mobliz, as have I. If Terra is indeed in this desolate place, then it will be our good fortune, but I have my doubts. I am uncertain as to what we will find here, but we must continue our search.

Each scar on the landscape and each empty house screams the same injunction – the Tower must fall. The task seems impossible, but, if nothing else, I draw strength from my trust in Celes. She is a bright seed of hope in the darkness, and I will happily follow the path she illuminates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Judging from the snowy opening sequence of _Final Fantasy VI_ , I assume the game begins in winter. Since the snow never melts in Narshe during the first half of the game, I'm going to pretend that it begins at the onset of the far northern snow season – let's say at some point between the second week of October and the first week of November. Perhaps two or three months pass during the events that follow. After the World of Balance yields to the World of Ruin, an additional year passes, with Celes then taking about a month to make her way from the Solitary Island to Tzen. By this point it's around March. Although presumably it could have been warmer than the climate Celes and Sabin have to deal with in the story, the sort of particulate matter in the atmosphere that would have been released by Kefka's actions could reasonably be expected to trigger unusual extremes in climate. 
> 
> As for the number of days Celes and Sabin need to get from Tzen to Mobliz, I will readily admit that it's not based on anything substantial. According to the Appalachian Trail Conservancy website, it takes more than five months to hike across rough terrain from Georgia to Maine. I didn't want to write that many diary entries, of course, but I also didn't want to image it taking half a year every time the characters in the game trekked from one location to another. 
> 
> What I ultimately decided is that the "world map" of _Final Fantasy VI_ is a continent about the size of North America that's been shattered into fragments, presumably as a result of the War of the Magi. Narshe would be somewhere around Alberta (Canada), while Cid's Solitary Island might be around Yucatán (Mexico). And the rest of the globe? Who knows. 
> 
> I've got two explanations for this theory. First, early zeppelin flights across the Atlantic Ocean were fraught with peril. Crossing an ocean the size of the Atlantic would have therefore taken not just one crashed _Falcon_ but several, and successive ventures would have been equally dangerous. If Setzer feels comfortable enough in the air to have a casino on his ship, then it would make sense to think of the central ocean on the map as more of an inland sea. Second, if Kefka's shenanigans had affected the entire planet, then the event would have been a dinosaur-level extinction catalyst that would have rendered the surface of the planet uninhabitable within a single generation. If it were merely a small corner of the planet, however, then the re-establishment of stasis within the biosphere would be more imminently conceivable.
> 
> Of course, it's possible that the party would defeat Kefka only to then succumb to environmental catastrophe, but I would like to imagine that's not the inevitable outcome of the game!


End file.
